Beauty and the Thief
by someone.else.before
Summary: Catherine gives Vincent a special gift. Vincent decides to give Catherine something in return, something he probably shouldn't have, something that wasn't really his to give away. The consequences are more far-reaching than either of them could have predicted.
1. Gift Exchange

**Beauty and the Thief**

Chapter One: Gift Exchange

By the time Catherine got up the courage to say what was really on her mind, the moon had already risen over the hazy horizon of Manhattan and the streets had long ago gone quiet. Vincent could tell, of course – he could always tell – that her mind was preoccupied, that her light-hearted chatter about her job and her friends was not all that she wanted to say to him. But he could also sense that she would come to the point and tell him her true thoughts – in time. It wasn't until she grew quiet and looked away from him, gazing thoughtfully at the dark outline of Central Park, that he decided to broach the subject.

"Catherine, is there something you want to talk to me about? I feel some sort of – almost shyness – in your heart. Please, tell me. You can tell me anything."

Catherine looked at him with surprise, then with a wry grin. "I should have known." She looked at him for a beat, let out a nervous sigh, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a small shiny object. A key.

"Vincent… you know I keep my balcony doors locked when I'm not home. People have broken into my apartment before – I have to be careful. But if you come to see me and I'm not here - I don't like the idea of you waiting out here all night. Someone might see you, or if it's raining or snowing…"

"I don't mind –" he interjected. He would willingly stand outside in a hurricane all night for a chance to see her.

She smiled and touched his hand. "I know you don't. But I do. Vincent –" she said, uncurling his fingers and placing the key in his palm, "I want you to have this. That way you can let yourself in, if you need to. It will keep me from worrying."

Vincent was momentarily stunned. Her concern for him – her trust in him – filled him with such exquisite happiness that he could barely speak. He reached out and touched her face gently, inviting her shy eyes to meet his gaze.

"Thank you, Catherine. I will treasure this gift."

She smiled and laughed and burrowed into his arms. "Don't just treasure it – use it."

He laughed with her and they stayed there for a long time, watching the moon glide inch by inch across the sky.

* * *

Vincent had been pacing the length of his chamber for what seemed like hours when the answer finally came to him. The key – Catherine's key – was nestled in his breast pocket, right by his heart. It pained him that she had given him something so precious when he could not find something equally precious to give her in return. Something that would show how much he cared about her, how much he trusted her… something that would help keep her safe… but what could that something be? Suddenly an image came to his mind, the memory of finding Catherine, tired and afraid, after she had been wandering through the dark, maze-like tunnels for an hour, searching for him. The answer came to him so suddenly that he felt like an idiot for not recognizing it sooner. A map! Father had dozens of maps of the world below, and any one of them would help Catherine find her way to safety, to his chambers or to Father's study. Before he could even think twice he was already in the library rummaging through Father's map collection. He found the one he was looking for – in good condition, easy to read, up-to-date - and folded it into a square, placing it in his breast pocket beside Catherine's key.

* * *

That night, Catherine returned home to find a note, a long-stem rose, and a parcel resting atop her pillowcase. She flushed with pleasure, glad to see that Vincent had put her gift to use so soon and curious to see what he had left for her.

_My Dearest Catherine,_

_Please forgive me for not presenting my gift to you in person.  
__I have business elsewhere tonight, but I could not wait a moment longer to give you something in return for what you have given me.  
__The key you gave me is more than just a key, for it represents your trust, your concern, and an invitation to enter your world whenever I might need to. I wanted to give you something that would serve the same purpose for you.  
__I must ask you to keep this map secret and only use it as a last resort, but it will soothe my heart to know that you have it with you, and that wherever you are in the city you will be able to find your way to me._

_With all my heart,_

_Vincent_


	2. Crime and Punishment

**Beauty and the Thief**

Chapter Two: Crime and Punishment

When Vincent returned from his patrols, he sensed immediately Father's foul and distracted mood.

"What's wrong, Father?" Vincent asked gently. Father just sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Oh, Vincent, you're back. I can't talk about it yet, I just need you to find Mouse and bring him here. Tell him it can't wait."

* * *

"Vincent! How are you? Need something? For Catherine? She's here?"

Vincent smiled. Mouse's exuberance was always like a bright rainbow of light in the dark tunnels. "No, Mouse. Father wants to see you. He's not happy with you, I think. What did you do this time?"

Mouse shrugged. "Hmm… think nothing … unless Father found out about – no wait, did find out, yelled and yelled last week. Or maybe – no, already apologized for that. Hmm, don't know. Chances are did something wrong, though. More rules every day, seems like."

Vincent chortled and patted Mouse on the back. "Well, whatever it is, if you can't remember it must not be that bad. I'm sure Father will forgive you. Now, let's go, or he'll get even more angry because he had to wait."

But Vincent couldn't have been more wrong. When Mouse and Vincent returned to the library, it was filled with the people of their world, every one of them tense and worried.

"Not that bad, huh Vincent?" Mouse muttered, then strode out towards the center of the room with all the false bravado he could muster. "Hey, Father! Having a party, didn't tell me! Is it Father's birthday? Is it my birthday?"

Father was not at all amused. He took off his glasses and folded them in his hands. "No, Mouse, it is not."

"Too bad. Birthdays are nice. Maybe should pretend it is Father's birthday. Maybe that would cheer him up!"

"I'm afraid that wouldn't help, Mouse. Something of mine has gone missing, and I am afraid that you may be responsible."

"Something missing? Didn't make Father's stuff missing. Wouldn't take things from Father."

"Mouse, I know that you try to be good, but we all know that you have taken things that weren't yours before. And I can't think of another person who would want to steal a map from me."

"Didn't take anything," said Mouse, emphatically.

Jamie stepped forward and put a hand on Mouse's shoulder. "Mouse, maybe you were working on another invention? Maybe you were going to ask Father's permission and you forgot?"

Pascal piped up. "Mouse, you must know how valuable the maps of the tunnels are. If they fell into the wrong hands our whole world could be in danger."

"Exactly, Pascal," said Father. "Except for in emergencies, removing a map from the library has always been forbidden, with punishment of silence or even temporary banishment."

Vincent's insides had turned to ice. What had he done? How could he have stolen a map without even thinking of the consequences? Now his friend was being blamed for his crime.

"Mouse, we don't want to banish you," Father continued, sternly. "If you confess, we will be lenient."

Mouse had begun to cry. "Didn't – never – "

"Father, stop. Mouse is innocent." Vincent spoke the words without a thought. They came out louder and more forcefully than he had intended, and the whole room went silent. "I took the map."

Father was angry now. "Vincent, you – I know he is your friend, but you mustn't lie to protect him. This is a very serious matter."

"I'm not lying!" Vincent almost growled. "I can prove it. I know exactly which map is missing. Number 37, isn't it?" Father nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Mouse is innocent and I am guilty."

The news seemed to hit Father like a freight train. He sat down in his chair and put his head in his hands. "But Vincent – why? Why would you do this?"

"I took the map to give to Catherine."

There was an audible gasp in the room.

Father stiffened and took in a deep, painful breath. When he looked back at Vincent, it was like he was a different man – cold and angry, betrayed, bone-tired.

"Vincent, you mean to say that you not only took a secret map of our world out of this room, but you actually brought it above ground? Do you have any idea how risky that is?"

"We can trust Catherine. She's one of us." Vincent looked around the room for support, but the people of his world would not meet his gaze. Some even looked angry.

"Vincent, it's not a matter of trust. Someone could steal it from her. A co-worker or a friend could find it. There's no telling what could happen. And the truth is, she isn't one of us. She's helped us a great deal, it's true, but she doesn't live here, doesn't rely on this place for shelter and community. You had absolutely no right to give that map to her."

Vincent stepped towards Father, wanting to make him understand. His voice was softer and more apologetic. "I didn't think –"

"No, Vincent, you didn't think." Father cut him off. His voice was like ice. "You have a responsibility to this community and you must obey its laws. We can… no longer make exceptions for you." The old man hardened his resolve. "Do you admit the charge?"

"Yes, but – "

"Then I must recommend a harsh punishment."

"Father, please –" This was all happening so fast. Vincent was panicking.

"No one will speak to you for a week. You will be confined to your chamber. You are forbidden from seeing or contacting Catherine during that time." Everyone else in the room saw the way Vincent's spirit sagged at his sentence, but Father's eyes were downcast, purposefully avoiding the sight of his son's misery. He could not allow himself to waver, or play favorites. "All those in favor of applying the punishment, please so indicate."

Vincent's vision had gone blurry – he was crying, he noticed almost numbly – but he saw, clearly enough, the people he considered his friends – his family – turning their backs on him, and he knew that he had lost.

* * *

_Author's note: Thanks for reading! Just wanted to add, since I forgot to mention it before, that this story takes place roughly around the end of season one. I'm a very new fan (thank you netflix! I wasn't alive in 1987) and I haven't seen anything past the season one finale - don't judge me, I want to wait and really savor it since this show had such a short run. Anyways, hope you're enjoying my story and please send me a review! I haven't gotten any yet :(_


	3. The Lion, the Mouse, and the Wardrobe

**Beauty and the Thief**

Chapter Three: The Lion, the Mouse, and the Wardrobe

Catherine was in the break room when Edie barged in. "Hey Cath, have I got a story for you."

Catherine laughed and put down her newspaper. "Alright, Edie, I'm all ears."

"You're gonna like this one. I was in the lobby chatting with Manny, you know, that handsome security guard, and he was telling me all about how his girlfriend just broke up with him to move to San Francisco with some super-rich computer genius, and I was all getting ready to suggest he come over to my place after work, you know, so I can help him work through all that emotional pain, if you get my drift, and…"

"Edie, is there a point to this story?"

"I'm getting to it, girl. So Manny and I were having a real good time, when all of a sudden he gets a call from some janitor saying there's a kid wandering around in the basement. Real strange kid, too, dressed like he came outta one of those renaissance fairs, you know, with the jugglers and turkey legs and all. You'd have thought Manny and I would've noticed this kid come in the front door, since Manny checks everybody's IDs and we would've remembered seeing some costumed kid come through, but nope. So Manny goes down there and brings the kid up, and tries to get him out the door, and all this kid will say is, "Catherine's friend? Are you one of Catherine's friends?"

Catherine jolted out of her seat. "Is he still here? Can you bring him to me?"

"You actually know this kid? You sure have some strange friends. Anyway, calm down, I'm getting there. So, at first Manny's like 'Which Catherine?' Because there's more than a couple Catherines working in the building, obviously. And this kid goes, 'The pretty one. She's a lawyer and she lives by Central Park and she works here.' So I think to myself, he must be talking about you. I mean, nobody else here has such a swanky address. So Manny's about to throw him out, but I tell him to wait a sec, and I say, 'Hey kid, I know who you're talkin' about. She's a friend of mine. Do you need to see her?' And he tells me no, he just needs to get a message to you and he gives me this letter." Edie pulled a weathered looking envelope out of her jacket pocket. "Now what do you think of that?"

Catherine grabbed the letter out of Edie's hand and stared at it. Edie was non-plussed, rolling her eyes and remarking, "you're not gonna explain any of this to me, are you?" She was used, by now, to her coworker's frustrating habit of keeping her private life private – a habit that Edie never picked up, herself.

Catherine grinned at her friend. "No, I'm afraid I'm not." She stood up and was halfway out the door when she paused, ran back and gave Edie a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. "But thank you." And with that, she ran back to her cubicle.

Catherine's excitement quickly turned to worry as she read the message from Below. She expected the letter to be from Vincent, but was surprised to learn that it was written by Mouse.

_DEAR CATHRIN_

_how are you i am good. there is a probelem with vinsent tho. he gave you a map nd father is very mad. evryone is mad bcause vinsent wasnt sposed to take it. they make vinsent stay in his chameber for the hole rest of the weak. he is not ullowed to send you mesajes any more so i desided too tell you wat hapend. dont wory. i will help. BUT i think pleese dont come below rite now bcause they are all so mad. they will yell at you and be meen and make you sad. dont wory mouse will think of sumthing. i will bring this letter too were you work and give it to your frends. ok good? ok fine._

_LOVE YOUR FREND MOUSE_

_p.s. sory I am a kinda bad riter._

Catherine didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The thought of Vincent alone and shunned by his family, all because of her, broke her heart. Why would he give her the map when it was forbidden? Did he regret it now, or did he feel he was justified? One thing was for sure: Mouse knew her better than she'd thought. All she wanted to do now was run below and find Vincent, comfort him, perhaps return the map to Father and apologize on Vincent's behalf – but Mouse was right. Coming below right now, especially with the help of the map, would only serve to further enrage Father and the other citizens.

Still, it touched her to see Mouse's concern, and she couldn't help but laugh at his earnestness and wonder what on earth he might be planning. She hoped that, whatever it was, it wouldn't make the situation worse.

* * *

Vincent had been staring at the third page of A Tale of Two Cities, reading the same sentence over and over without comprehending it, for who knows how long, when he heard a knock on his door. He hadn't moved in hours, hadn't eaten, hadn't slept. He meant to shout, "Go away! I'm not hungry," but it came out as a kind of roar. He felt so angry and ashamed and alone… it was like he was slowly being swallowed up in darkness. A week without Catherine… without any human contact… it was almost unbearable. Could this really be what he deserved?

The knock came again. "Vincent!" a voice whispered. He knew that voice.

"Mouse? What…" For the first time since his sentencing, he felt hopeful. The silence was terrible, he'd said that to Father once, but he hadn't expected his silence to be broken so soon. It couldn't have been more than twenty-four hours since the council meeting.

"Open door quick. Need to talk."

Vincent complied hastily. To Vincent's surprise, Mouse gave him a hug and then began pacing excitedly around the room.

"You alright, Vincent? Nothing to do in here – nothing but books. At least during my punishment, I had inventions, had Arthur."

"I've told you many times, Mouse. To me, books are their own kind of solace, their own kind of freedom. But it has been lonely here, yes. It is wonderful to see you. Still, Mouse – " Vincent paused, looking at Mouse with confusion in his eyes, "you know no one is allowed to speak to me. You could be punished, too, if anyone finds out that you are here. And you know… when they gave you this punishment, I refused to talk to you. Why would you be willing to talk to me?"

"I always thought you were so smart, but now you sound sillier than Kipper. You are my friend, and friends help each other – and forgive each other. And besides, I'm way better at breaking rules than you are. Better than better."

Vincent smiled, "That's true."

Mouse began inspecting Vincent's wall, tapping at it and listening to the echoes, as if he was looking for something. "What are you doing, Mouse?" asked Vincent, curiosity temporarily eclipsing melancholy.

"I'm going to help you escape so you can go see Catherine."

Vincent smiled. Mouse was such an optimist… whether it was one of Father's rules or a wall of solid rock, Mouse was always looking for a way around it. But not all of Mouse's inventions worked, and many of his dreams never became reality. Vincent knew this particular dream was fruitless, but he could not crush the boy's hopes, especially not when he had been so in need of company. Suddenly he wondered if there was a reason Mouse had mentioned Catherine. "Has she been… looking for me?"

"No, don't worry. I sent her a note. Told her to stay above tonight. Figured if she came below you'd both be in even worser trouble." Vincent nodded. Mouse was savvier than he looked.

The boy stared thoughtfully at Vincent's huge mahogany wardrobe, and then began to attempt to push it to the side.

"What are you doing now?"

"Looking for another way out."

"Mouse, I appreciate your help, but you don't actually think my chamber has a secret door, do you? I've lived here all my life, since before you were even born, and I've never seen –"

Mouse gave a final push, and Vincent's ancient wardrobe moved aside, partially revealing a dark, cobwebbed tunnel.

Mouse looked back at Vincent and grinned in victory. "Ok good! Ok fine! Was sure there would be one somewhere. Thought to myself, it might be behind your wardrobe. Like in that book you read to me! You're the lion but I sure hope Catherine isn't the witch." Mouse laughed. "I mean, I know she isn't, it's just a joke, I like Catherine a lot. A lot a lot. Anyway, let's get going!"

Vincent was more than a little apprehensive. "Mouse, do you have any idea where this tunnel leads to?"

"Oh sure, have an idea. Have lots of ideas!"

"But do you actually know where it goes?"

"No, I guess not. But there's only one way to find out! Come on, sun'll be up soon!"

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think by reviewing or sending me a PM. I want to thank spacekitten2700, KrisJean97, Scrappy LeMonte, and one anonymous user for their reviews. Thanks guys! :)_


	4. On the Street Where You Live

**Beauty and the Thief**

Chapter Four: On the Street Where You Live

The hidden tunnel was cramped, twisting, and littered with cobwebs, and without the guidance of Vincent's cat-like vision, he and Mouse would have been constantly colliding with the stone walls or tripping over hidden fissures in the rocky floor. Finally, their underground journey came to an end, as the tunnel opened out onto a side street garage near St. Vincent's Hospital – the exact neighborhood where Vincent had been discovered as an infant. Vincent thought that this was a strange coincidence, and decided to ask Father about it, until he remembered that Father wasn't speaking to him; besides, he would be furious to learn that Vincent had used this secret tunnel to sneak out. Unfortunately, they were quite far downtown from Catherine's apartment, and Vincent was sure they should give up and turn back. Mouse, of course, wouldn't hear of it. Luckily, it was late, and the streets were almost deserted; with Mouse leading him, Vincent could easily walk with his head down under the shadow of his cloak. It was a risk, but Vincent was taking more risks than ever these days.

After a day confined to his chamber, Vincent found the walk invigorating, although he was sorely in need of sleep. Every step brought him closer to Catherine, and this thought quickened his pace. It was three or four in the morning, and the city was peaceful, even beautiful in his eyes, the way it had been when he and Catherine had explored it on Halloween night. He found himself telling Mouse about that night, about the places and people he had seen. As they walked uptown, he saw landmarks that he had read about years ago, and began telling Mouse the tales he knew of old New York, the history that had happened here and the urban legends that were even better than fairy tales. He had just finished telling Mouse about the tragic demolition of Penn Station when they finally reached Catherine's block.

"Thank you, Mouse. For helping me, and bringing me here – for being such a good friend."

Mouse laughed. "Had fun. Finding passageway, seeing city, walking and talking. Do it again sometime."

Vincent smiled.

"Will you stay here? With your Catherine?" asked Mouse.

This gave Vincent pause. All he had thought of was seeing Catherine again, and had given little consideration to what would happen afterwards. Could he really spend a week with her above? Would she allow it? But what other choice did he really have? To spend the week cowering in the shadows, to hide in the underground grottos beyond the perimeter like Paracelsus had? Or could he return to the world below and beg his father's forgiveness? No, no, some combination of pride and shame would not allow that. But did he have the courage to ask Catherine for the shelter he so sorely needed? What would she say?

"I – I don't know. Perhaps."

Mouse was oblivious to Vincent's worries. "Think you should stay. You say Catherine is your love, so it will be very happy with her for you. Besides, keeping away from angry Father a while." Mouse's bright tone faltered for a moment, and he sighed. "Will miss you, friend." Mouse gave him a bear hug that was much more forceful than Vincent would have thought possible, coming from such a small boy. But Mouse wasn't one to stay still for long (unless, of course, he was seated in front of a new invention) and he quickly slipped away, waving goodbye to Vincent and scurrying into the darkness of Central Park with the speed and agility that befit his namesake.

* * *

Vincent climbed up to Catherine's apartment, feeling, as he often did when he came to see her, a bit like a hero in a fairy tale, or like Shakespeare's Romeo. When he reached her balcony, he tapped gently on the glass, but there was no answer. The rooms were dark. He tried to reach her with his empathic powers, and realized that she was far away, in another part of the city. Not in danger – just stressed and tired, perhaps working late at the office. He felt dejected knowing that he had come all this way, and still she was out of reach. He turned to leave, and then remembered that he didn't really have anywhere to go. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he fingered the small silver key. This situation was exactly why she'd given it to him in the first place – but was he brave enough to accept her invitation and let himself in? It seemed so forward – such an intimate step – and he hesitated, but finally his tiredness won out, and he put the key in the lock and turned it.

Her apartment was just like her. It was warm and bright and calming, and it smelled of lilacs and sugar. Still, he couldn't help feeling awkward and out of place, like a grimy animal that had snuck in unwanted. All this clean, white furniture! Vincent considered taking a bath, just to get the dirt of the tunnels and the sweat of the long walk off of him, but that felt like way too much of an imposition. The thought of Catherine returning home to find him in her bathtub was absolutely mortifying. He didn't want to get her couch dirty, but by this point his legs were aching terribly, and he desperately needed to sit down and rest a bit. After long consideration, he sat down on the floor, his back against the wall, his head slowly coming to lean against the padded arm of the couch. Not the most comfortable place to sit, but his exhaustion – from the stress of the trial, the lack of sleep, the journey and the climb – finally caught up to him, and although he intended to stay awake until Catherine returned, it was only a few minutes before his eyelids began to flutter and droop, and in a few minutes more he was asleep.

* * *

_Thanks to spacekitten2700, Vicky, and Scrappy LeMonte for their reviews! As always, I love hearing from readers. :)_


	5. Homecoming

**Beauty and the Thief**

Chapter Five: Homecoming

Bone-tired but satisfied with a job well done – and looking forward to a well-deserved day off – Catherine finally made it back to her apartment just as the sun had begun to rise. She flung the door open and dropped her coat unceremoniously on the floor, and was about to go straight to bed when she nearly stumbled over the sleeping form of Vincent.

Startled, she stepped backward and nearly tripped again, this time over her coffee table. Vincent stirred in his sleep, maybe from the noise or from some subconscious awareness of her sudden state of shock. "Catherine… is scared?" he murmured groggily, his eyes still closed.

She crouched down and took his hand. "No, Vincent, I was just surprised," she whispered. "Don't worry, everything's fine. Let's get you onto the couch."

Still half-dreaming, he protested weakly. "But that's Catherine's couch… I can't… too dirty…"

"Don't be silly, Vincent, it's alright. Here now, stand up." Somehow he made it to his feet and she got him onto the couch. Gently, she took his shoes off – how did Father ever find shoes to fit him? His feet were enormous – and spread a blanket over him. When she glanced back at him, she saw that his eyes were half-open, and he was watching her with a smile on his face – a rare, true smile, without melancholy or bitterness, so sweet and trusting it sent a pang through her chest. "What is it?"

"You're here," he said, simply, wonderingly.

"Yes, and so are you," she answered, smiling down at him as she gently swept his sleep-mussed hair from his face and tucked him into the soft, warm blanket. By the time she whispered "sweet dreams, my love," and laid a kiss on his forehead, he had already drifted back to sleep.

Catherine knew that she needed to get some rest, but even as she lay in her bed, exhausted, she struggled to quiet her racing thoughts. Questions of what had happened Below and what Vincent was doing here circled in her mind – and the thought that Vincent was actually spending the night in her apartment was a distracting one, as well. It wasn't surprising that the sun was streaming brightly through her curtains before she finally lost consciousness.

* * *

When she awoke again she was briefly disoriented by the mid-afternoon shadows – how long had she slept? As the events of the morning came back to her, she couldn't help wondering if Vincent's appearance in her living room had been nothing but a vivid dream.

Hesitantly, she stepped out of her bedroom and saw Vincent sitting in the easy-chair, intently studying an old newspaper from her coffee table. He hadn't turned on any of the lights – she remembered he was used to darkness. When he heard her approach, he stood up quickly and walked towards her, looking concerned.

"Catherine! You're awake! I was worried…"

"You should have woken me up. I've slept the day away." She rubbed her eyes.

He smiled. "You were very tired."

"So were you. Why in the world did you fall asleep on the floor?" She scolded him gently.

"Oh…" he remembered. "I think I was worried about getting your furniture dirty. I didn't mean to fall asleep, I was just waiting for you to get home, and then there you were and you made me get on the couch…"

"Was that alright? Did you sleep well?"

"Of course, Catherine. It was lovely… to feel so close to you." He looked down at the carpet shyly. When he had awoken that morning, he had been shocked at his own boldness, at what he had done. He had come into her home and fallen asleep, as if he had a right to be there! She must have been shocked! As he had lain there, wondering, he had realized that he was much too comfortable. He had fallen asleep sitting up on the floor, but now he had found himself lying somewhere soft, with a pillow under his head and a warm blanket over top of him. Then, blinking to clear his head, he had finally remembered her arrival, how she had helped him up from the floor and tucked him in and kissed his brow – without any questions, without any hesitation. Even now, he couldn't quite believe it. He didn't have the words to tell her what that acceptance meant to him.

Catherine squeezed Vincent's hand and led him to the couch. He sensed her mood becoming serious. "What is it, Catherine?"

"Vincent… I have to ask. I got a note from Mouse yesterday, but I'm not sure I really understood it. You're in trouble with Father?"

Vincent's features darkened with sadness and anger, and Catherine regretted ever bringing it up. "Yes, Catherine. Father doesn't understand… he doesn't trust you the way I do. He's a fool."

Catherine sighed. "No, Vincent, he's not a fool. He's had to be so careful for so long, and he has so much responsibility on his shoulders." Vincent shrugged, obviously still angry, but Catherine continued. "Please tell me what happened."

"The map I gave you… Father says it didn't really belong to me. It belonged below, and to bring it above ground was forbidden. He is afraid of what could happen should it fall into the wrong hands. He thinks I've lost my sense of responsibility, that I'm being selfish." He looked at her, searching for a solution. "Am I being selfish?"

"No, Vincent, of course not. The map was such a thoughtful gift, and I would guard it with my life. But…" Catherine proceeded delicately, afraid to offend him, "if the people below think I shouldn't have it, maybe they're right."

"I don't know, Catherine. I've always been there for them, and they didn't listen to me or give me the benefit of the doubt."

"I know." She rubbed his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I'm sorry to see you so hurt. I wish there was something I could do."

"Oh, Catherine," he sighed. He captured her hand in his own and kissed it. Even wrapped up in concern for him, she still felt her stomach flutter. "I have been shut out of my community, of my home. They told me I was forbidden to see you, but… I think the aloneness would have killed me. Now I have nowhere to go, and no way to make things right."

Catherine's heart broke to see his despair. She brought his hands to her lips and kissed them in a mirror of what he had just done. She understood the question he was asking – the question he was too afraid to say aloud.

"Vincent, I want you to understand that wherever I am, there is a place for you. I know my home is different from the world you are used to, and it may be difficult for you to adjust, but I will do everything I can to help you feel comfortable here. And in time, your family will come round, I'm sure of it."

Vincent's hands shook and he buried his face in the crook of her neck to hide his welling tears. He, who was so adept at reading others' emotions, didn't know how to begin to define his own.

* * *

_Looks like Catherine has herself a houseguest :) Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! Special thanks to spacekitten2700 and one anonymous guest for their reviews._


	6. Settling In

**Beauty and the Thief**

Chapter Six: Settling In

Seeking a way to take Vincent's mind off of his troubles, Catherine asked him how he had managed to leave his chamber without being stopped. He smiled and recounted the tale of how Mouse had led him through a secret passageway, and how they had walked halfway across the city to reach her. She told him about Mouse's run-in with her coworkers, then opened up her briefcase and pulled out a brown, crumpled piece of paper. "This is the letter Mouse wrote to me." Catherine held it up for Vincent to read. "Were you the one who taught him how to write?"

Vincent smiled fondly, looking down at the childish scribbles. He felt proud of his pupil's progress, even if the spelling was a bit… unorthodox. "I am still teaching him. He is so very bright, but it isn't easy to keep him focused on the task at hand. He says to me, 'Vincent, why do I need to learn all these spelling rules? They're all made up, anyhow. If you know what I mean and I know what I mean, what's the difference if I spell it right or wrong?'" Vincent laughed. "To be honest, I'm still trying to think of an answer that will satisfy him."

Catherine chuckled. "Vincent, what were you like when you were young? Did you follow the rules?" He paused before answering, and she briefly worried that she had offended him or asked too personal a question. But he didn't seem angry, just thoughtful and only a little sad.

"Almost always. With Devin I was brave enough to bend them, sometimes, but… mostly I was the type of child who always had to prove something –that I was good, I suppose, that I was a person, not a – a freak of nature." Those words caught slightly in his throat, despite his best efforts, but Catherine's warm and sympathetic gaze prompted him to continue. "I think that was why I studied so hard, why I stayed beside Father and read Chaucer while all the other boys my age ran wild through the tunnels."

"Were you lonely?" she asked, quietly.

He sighed. This was difficult. "I was… sensitive. My empathic gift felt more like a curse in those days, sometimes. When I met someone new, I always felt, so keenly, the way they reacted to my appearance. It wounded me, and it was not easy for me to forgive. I was angry, and afraid of rejection, and I never really gave them a chance to get to know me – never fully trusted anyone but Father and Devin." Vincent smiled sadly. "Perhaps that is why I feel so connected to the little ones in the tunnels – Mouse and Kipper and Jamie – because they have grown up knowing me, and never learned to fear me."

Catherine nodded. "I guess I can understand that." She looked up at him, remembering the way she had screamed when she first saw his face, and remorse went through her like a knife. "I'm sorry," she murmured, stroking the side of his face with her fingers and wondered if he knew what she was thinking of.

He captured her hand in his. "Please don't apologize, Catherine. You have helped me so much… you have helped me learn to forgive. It was painful when I felt you were afraid of me, but when I felt you begin to trust me, I couldn't help but trust you too." He smiled. "Now, when someone is afraid of me, I do not hate them – or myself. Their fear… somehow, it does not wound me the way it once did."

She could see the honesty in his eyes, and she let out a breath.

"What about you, Catherine?" he probed. "Did you… follow the rules? As a child, I mean."

She looked away, remembering. "Yes and no. When I was very young, I practically worshipped my parents – I wanted to be just like them, and I assumed that they always knew best. But after I entered my teen years, I began to question the world we lived in. I started spending time with some very unhappy girls, some girls who were filled with rage and loneliness and who lashed out at their parents, who broke rules just to break them. We were all from wealthy families and had every privilege you could imagine… and yet…"

Vincent didn't know what to say. It was hard to imagine Catherine acting this way, lashing out at anyone. She was always so composed and gracious. It didn't make any sense to him. "What happened?"

"I suppose I grew out of it," she shrugged. She hesitated to finish the story – afraid what she would think of him – but she remembered how much she had appreciated his openness with her, and she forced herself to be honest. "I think that some of that anger was justified – there were so many expectations placed on us, and so many hypocrisies in our world – but on some level we were denying the gifts we had been given and the responsibilities we had. I know I was. One day, I heard a friend of mine brag about stealing prescription drugs from her mother's medicine cabinet and blaming it on the maid – the poor woman lost her job – and I realized I couldn't be a part of that – that selfishness – any longer. I cut them all out of my life and focused on being there for my dad, on becoming a successful lawyer. I never went against his wishes again – until last year."

Catherine realized that she had tears in her eyes. This was a part of her life that very few people knew about. It felt so good to open up to Vincent about her past, about the painful experiences that had made her who she was.

Vincent reached for her, realizing that he didn't know her as well as he'd thought. They both had struggled with social expectations, with fathers who were caring and wonderful but sometimes asked too much of their children. Catherine's life hadn't been one long picnic in the sun before their meeting.

"Is that what I am doing, Catherine? Denying the gifts and responsibilities I was born with – the people below, what they offer me, what I owe to them?"

"I don't know, Vincent. You must be true to yourself, but… family is a precious thing."

* * *

After a lazy evening spent talking about anything and everything, and after Catherine had given Vincent a primer on the use of the shower, telephone, microwave, and television, Catherine finally noticed Vincent stifling a yawn. She made the decision on the spot.

"Vincent, I want you to sleep in my bed."

"What!?"

She blushed crimson and quickly clarified. "I mean, let me sleep on the couch while you take the bed."

Oh. He nodded in understanding, then quickly switched to shaking his head when he realized what she was suggesting. "Catherine, I couldn't possibly – "

"Listen, Vincent." She was getting frustrated now, going into 'attorney-mode.' "You are almost twice my size. There is no way you are really comfortable on that tiny couch. I can actually lie down on it without my legs dangling over – you cannot. Take the bed and don't argue."

Of course, he did argue – he was a gentleman, after all – and the matter was far from resolved when Catherine innocently asked Vincent to go into her bedroom and bring her a copy of "Persuasion" by Jane Austen. Knowing it would take him some time to find the book, she sprung into action. By the time he returned to the living room, book in hand, she was already lying on the couch, under the covers and ready for bed.

He laughed at her maneuver. "Catherine, no…" he said, reaching for the blanket and fully prepared to carry her to her bedroom, when she looked at him with an archly self-satisfied expression. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Why not?" He was about to peel back the blanket when he noticed something odd – Catherine's shoulders, visible above the covering, were bare. _Where was her nightgown?_Catherine blushed red as she felt his eyes on her and watched comprehension dawn on his face, but then as he jolted away from her, his eyes downcast and his whole body radiating embarrassment and shyness, she laughed whole-heartedly. "Still want me to take the bed? I'll get up and walk over there right now, if you like."

"N…no, no, that's fine, you stay there, I'll sleep in the bed if you… if you insist," he stammered.

"Good. I thought you'd feel that way." He met her gaze and smiled, bewildered but not unamused, and she knew that her teasing hadn't offended him or scared him off. A part of her had hoped that his reaction to all this would have ended with _both_ of them in the bed – but no, that was too much to ask for, too soon. They'd known each other for so long, and in some ways their relationship was more intimate than any Catherine had ever had – but physically, things were progressing quite slowly. It was enough that he was here, and that he was letting her flirt with him a little. She sighed and snuggled contentedly into the blankets.

* * *

Vincent approached Catherine's bed like Father would approach a rare and ancient manuscript. Full of hesitation and more than a little curiosity, he reached out and stroked the white floral bedspread. Stripping down to his under clothes, he thought helplessly of Catherine in the next room, dressed in – he shivered and tried, in vain, not to speculate. He saw again the laughter in her eyes, and felt certain that he should be offended by her obvious manipulation, but all he could think was, "she trusts me." That thought gave him the courage he needed to slip under the covers of her bed, where every inhalation contained a delicate trace of her perfume, her scent, so heavenly and irresistible that he felt hypnotized by it, his thoughts and worries wiped away by an overwhelming sense of peace.

* * *

_haha what has Vincent gotten himself into? That was a fun scene to write. Thanks to spacekitten2700, Maria, and RedNightBird for their reviews. Also, this story has now gotten over a hundred readers! Yay! I'm glad people seem to be enjoying it so far. As always, reviews are very much appreciated. :)_


	7. The Intruder

**Beauty and the Thief**

Chapter Seven: The Intruder

It was strange, in more ways than one, for Vincent to spend his whole day alone in Catherine's apartment. After a life lived underground and in semi-darkness, he felt exposed and uncomfortable in the brightly-lit penthouse. He was used to hard work and constant activity – teaching the children, patrolling the tunnels, lending a hand whenever it was needed – and so leisure didn't really agree with him at first.

The thing that struck him the most was the quiet. His powerful sense of hearing and empathic abilities told him plainly that the building was nearly deserted – like Catherine, the other tenants were mostly young professionals with jobs to get to. In the tunnels, one was surrounded by noise: the rattle of subways, the clanking of pipes, the dripping of water, the echo of voices and footsteps. Even if he was just sitting in his chamber, Vincent would be constantly picking up on hints of other tunnel-dweller's thoughts or feelings as they passed by. Without the noises and sensations he was accustomed to, he felt nervous, like a traveler in the woods who notices that the animals have suddenly all gone silent.

Without even consciously deciding to, Vincent closed his eyes and reached out mentally to Catherine, knowing that just brushing against her consciousness would make him feel less anxious, less alone. He found her focused and confident, obviously hard at work, and he felt his heart glow with pride and admiration for her. He didn't know when her emotions began to shift, but he eventually noticed her drifting from that focused, driven mindset into something warmer and softer, and he somehow knew that she could sense him there with her. It felt like a welcoming – an invitation to linger for a while – and he smiled as he felt her reaching for him. Love and joy hummed back and forth across the bond, and although he could only define or describe a fraction of the feelings he felt from her, whatever it was, it was better than sunlight or honey, more beautiful than a million crystal caverns.

Vincent was so wrapped up in the Bond he didn't even notice the cleaning lady's approach until she knocked brusquely on Catherine's door, pulling him suddenly from a state of peace to a state of terror.

"Miss Chandler, are you in there? I'm here to clean the apartment."

Adrenaline flooded his system as he heard the jingle of keys outside the door. He couldn't let the stranger see him! He needed to hide, now! Trying not to make any noise, he raced to the bathroom and closed the door. He heard the cleaning woman enter the apartment in the same moment that he realized, with dismay, that Catherine's bathroom had no lock on the door. This had been a very bad hiding place to choose.

He heard the woman's footsteps draw closer and began to outright panic, but she was merely going to the kitchen to turn on the radio. She returned to the living room, humming along to the music, but soon this was nearly drowned out by a sort of roaring mechanical wooshing sound that Vincent had never heard before. He wondered if whatever she was doing would distract her enough to allow him to sneak past her, then remembered he had nowhere to sneak away to – it was broad daylight outside.

Maybe he could explain himself to her, try to swear her to secrecy – maybe she would be understanding. But what could he say? To her he would seem like a monster lurking in the shadows, a threat to her and her employer. She would never believe that Catherine had invited him.

The roaring sound ceased and Vincent was almost relieved, the noise had been so grating on his nerves. But when he heard the woman entering Catherine's bedroom and walking towards the bathroom, he was paralyzed by fear. This was the end of everything.

* * *

Catherine had been working steadily all morning when she felt a strange yet familiar sensation tingling along her spine. It was a little like that feeling of being watched, but pleasant instead of frightening. _Vincent is thinking of me_, she thought. _Vincent is reaching out to me. _She almost laughed out loud with happiness, and instantly feelings of love and welcome flooded through her and outward to him. She felt his own love flow back to her in response, the knowledge of it seeping into every cell in her body, and she was certain that any minute her heart would burst from the pleasure of the sensation. The closest thing she could compare it to was the feeling of gazing into a lover's eyes and stroking one's fingers gently across his face, memorizing each beloved feature, thinking "I could stay like this for hours."

When their pleasant communion broke, Catherine nearly collapsed from shock. Her relaxed contentment was shattered, and panic overwhelmed her for a moment as her heart rate soared and her stomach dropped out.

She clutched at her desk, taking shaky breaths, trying to calm herself. _What the hell was that?_ The fear had been so visceral that a few minutes went by before she realized – it hadn't belonged to her. It had been Vincent's fear, Vincent's panic. Then she felt her own fear rise (noticing, almost absentmindedly, that it did, in fact, have a distinctively different 'flavor' than his) and had to keep herself calm a second time, racking her brains for an idea of what could have caused Vincent to become so afraid. She looked down at her desk and noticed her open day-planner. With a jolt she realized what had happened. The cleaning lady! How could she have forgotten? With no time to lose, she picked up the phone and dialed.

* * *

The cleaning lady's advance was halted when the phone on Catherine's bedside table began to ring. Vincent's anxiety doubled. What if she answered, and then went to open the door to his hiding place? She would see him, and she would scream, and then whoever was listening would call the police and he would be caught for sure. There would be no talking his way out of this. He began to consider barring the door, wondering if she would try to break in. She would probably hear him breathing, figure he was a burglar, and call the police anyway.

"Catherine Chandler's residence," answered the woman, and Vincent almost gasped when his sensitive ears picked up the caller's voice. It was Catherine – unmistakably Catherine – on the other side. "Oh, hello Miss Chandler. I just finished vacuuming the living room and I was about to mop the bathroom floor. Is there anything you need?"

"Well, listen, I'm terribly sorry," Catherine said, "but I'm afraid I meant to call you yesterday and tell you not to come out there. The truth is, I have a friend staying with me, a friend from out of town, and I'd really rather not inconvenience her. She probably went out to get coffee, and I just don't want her to come back and find the place being cleaned."

"I see. Should I come back tonight?"

"No, no, that's not necessary. I'll pay you in full for today and you can just come back next week like usual. It's my fault for forgetting you were coming in."

"Thank you, Miss Chandler. If you like, I'll give the bathroom a once-over before I leave."

"No! I mean, no, that's not necessary. Just go ahead and enjoy your day off. It's good weather for sitting out in the park."

"Are you sure?"

"I, uh… I don't want my friend to find you in my place – she'll tease me about forgetting you were coming."

"Alright, then. Goodbye, Miss Chandler."

"Take care, Mimi."

Mimi's happiness was palpable to Vincent as she packed up her things and finally let herself out, locking the door behind her. Vincent waited for a moment to be sure she wasn't going to return, and then stepped out of his hiding place. Thank goodness Catherine had gotten her out of the apartment. He was almost amused by how Catherine could let a long standing appointment like that slip her mind, but then come up with such a quick-witted and believable cover story. How had she known to call?

Almost on cue, the phone rang again. Vincent hesitated. What if it wasn't Catherine calling this time? But what if it was? He picked up the phone, but only listened, instead of speaking.

"Vincent!" Catherine whispered. He relaxed.

"Hello, Catherine."

"Good, you're there." He could almost hear her smile of relief. "Is Mimi gone?"

"Would I be on the phone with you if she wasn't?" he teased.

"Good point. What happened?"

"I was focusing on… well, on you, on our bond… when I heard her at the door. I hid in the bathroom. It was very close. If you hadn't called, I don't know what would have happened."

"I'm so sorry, Vincent. I can't believe I forgot she was coming. I feel awful for putting you through that. You must have been terrified. I… I felt it."

"Really?" He was surprised. She'd picked up on his emotions before, but it was still a rare occurrence, one he didn't fully understand.

"Yes. Maybe it was because we were… focusing on each other, like you said."

"Yes." He blushed a little at the memory. They were both quiet for a moment, remembering. But when Catherine spoke again, her tone was lighthearted.

"So, other than having to hide from a cleaning lady, how are you doing?"

"I'm well, Catherine. Your home is lovely."

"But…" she prompted. She could sense his hesitation, but she wanted him to be honest with her.

Vincent sighed. "I'm alright. I just miss you. And… I miss my family. Your home _is_ lovely, but it's also… different, from what I'm used to."

"You're homesick." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. Another new experience for me," he said. "I didn't expect to feel this way – to miss it so much."

"I know. I'm sorry." They sat in silence for a moment, than Catherine again tried to lighten the mood. "I've got quite a bit of work tonight, but I think I can manage to take most of it home, so I won't have to be at the office too late. I'm thinking of getting takeout. How do you like Indian food?"

"I've never had it," Vincent admitted.

"Well, then you're in for a treat." Vincent could almost hear Catherine's smile.

* * *

Thanks to kaskieklova for their review! I haven't heard much feedback about the last chapter, so I hope people are still reading. Reviews only take a minute or two, and they make my day, so please let me know what you think! :)


	8. All-Nighter

**Beauty and the Thief**

Chapter 8: All-Nighter

Unfortunately, Catherine returned home that evening with two tons of paperwork and a frazzled expression. Even after she had installed herself at her writing desk and begun to concentrate on poring through various important documents, Catherine's stress was so palpable that it was driving Vincent crazy. He was trying to read his book, hoping to sit with her in companionable silence as she worked, but he lost his focus every time she sighed in frustration or rubbed her temples or had an anxious thought. Eventually closed the book, stood up, and started pacing back and forth, which, of course, did not improve her mood.

"Vincent, can you please sit still? I'm trying to concentrate," she snapped.  
He was somewhat shocked at her anger. "I apologize, Catherine," he said, softly, formally. Hearing the hurt in his voice, she sighed and turned to him.

"I'm sorry, Vincent. I didn't mean to be harsh. I've got a lot on my plate."

"I know, Catherine. I'm sorry. It's just…"

"What?" she asked, curious. Vincent was usually so composed and controlled – it wasn't like him to fidget.

"I can feel how worn out and anxious you are, and it makes me… restless," he confessed, unconsciously running his hand through his hair.

"Oh." She hadn't thought of that. She often forgot about the downsides of Vincent's unusual empathy. "I'm sorry. I should have realized." She looked at him, a little sadly. "Maybe you should go out for a little bit. It's plenty dark, and you've been cooped up in here for a while." She smiled. "Go climb a skyscraper or run around the park or something. At least one of us should have a chance to use up our nervous energy."

He was surprised, and a little hurt that she was sending him away, but he worked hard not to show it. "Perhaps…" he trailed off. Then an idea struck him, a way that he could perhaps help her. His mood lightened and he grinned. "Catherine, I think you're right."

"Oh, um… good. Yes, go, enjoy yourself." Catherine was a little taken aback that he had agreed so easily. She had half-expected him to refuse to leave her side, but that was a childish expectation, she knew. It _would_ be good for him to get out, for a little while. She reached for his hand. "Just… be careful."

"Of course. I'll return by midnight, my dear." He squeezed her hand and then in a blink of an eye he was out onto the balcony.

* * *

The fresh, cool night air exhilarated Vincent as he leapt from Catherine's balcony to the fire escape. Her worries were like a quiet hum in his ears, but he felt better knowing that he was doing what he could to alleviate them. He rushed at full speed into the park, eager to be surrounded by the familiar scents of earth and trees, the familiar sounds of buzzing cicadas and rustling leaves. He easily located the entrance to the world Below, the hidden tunnel through which he had carried Catherine on the fateful night of her attack. Here, he hesitated. His plan depended on getting help from someone below, and he realized how futile that would be. A deep-seated fear of rejection nearly paralyzed him, but he steeled himself. If they refused to help him, he reasoned, it would only be because they were following Father's orders. In that case, he would be no worse off than he was already; so he might as well try. He banged loudly on the pipes.

Vincent was about to admit defeat and return to Catherine's when he heard hurried footsteps. Jamie rounded the corner, out of breath. "Vincent!" she exclaimed, running towards him excitedly. She began to ask him a question, but then she suddenly hesitated, looking down, embarrassed. Instantly, Vincent understood. She was happy to see him, he could tell, but she had remembered Father's sentence and was afraid or unwilling to break the law of the tunnels.

He spoke up, trying to ease her confusion and show that he was not hurt by her reaction. "Hello, Jamie. I know you are forbidden to speak with me, so don't worry. You don't have to say anything, but I need your help." Fear flashed in her mind, so he spoke again. "Don't be afraid - everything is fine."

She smiled at him, and he felt that she was agreeing to help him, if she could.

"I was hoping to bring Catherine some of her favorite tea. It's the special herbal tea, from Chinatown," he explained. "I would get it myself, but…"

She thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded. Gesturing for him to wait, she ran back into the darkness.

* * *

When Vincent returned, Catherine was still hunched over her desk, concentrating intensely. He had hoped that her mood would have improved along with his, but clearly that was not the case. She barely even looked up when he came into the room.

"Catherine," he whispered. "I'm back."

It felt natural then to place his hands on her shoulders; and when he felt the soreness and tenseness of the muscles there, it felt inevitable that he should begin to press down, massaging her, moving his hands in small, gentle circles. She let out a contented sigh and he felt her begin to relax, physically as well as mentally, and it gave him the courage to begin to work on the back of her neck, enjoying the feeling of her bare skin beneath his fingers. She leaned forward, her head almost lying on the desk in front of her, and he eagerly moved to stroke along her spine, to knead the muscles in her shoulder blades and lower back. With every moment that passed her pleasure at his touch became more visceral, intoxicating his every sense. He felt a haze descend over his rational mind. This was the only thing in the universe.

Too soon, far too soon, he felt her stir beneath his hands. "Vincent," she murmured, sounding groggy. "Vincent, you have to stop."

He felt like he had been doused in ice water. His hands flew away from her and he stepped backwards. "Did I… did I do something wrong?"

"No! No, that was wonderful, Vincent, truly. But to be honest, you were… um… distracting me again." She blushed.

"I see…" he said, feeling embarrassed but willing himself to speak. "Catherine, please, I don't want to burden you. I want to help you. Tell me what I can do."

She looked at him, speculating. "Well, would you by any chance…" she trailed off, second-guessing herself. "Oh, never mind, never mind."

"What is it Catherine? Please tell me how I can help. I want to, honestly," he entreated her.

"Well… do you know how to proofread?"

He was excited that she had thought of something for him to do. "I suppose so. I teach grammar and spelling to the children, Below."

"Yes, I know," she said, smiling. "You could probably teach me a few things. Well, actually, these pages all need to be proof-read," she said, and gestured to a large stack of fat manila folders with papers spilling out of them.

Vincent didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed a folder off the pile, took a pen from her desk, and settled down on the couch. Catherine beamed at him. She had been hesitant to accept his offer of help, but having a second pair of eyes tonight was a huge relief.

"Should I make us some coffee?" she asked.

He had almost forgotten! Vincent stood up and went to the kitchen. "Stay right where you are," he told her, and she complied, confused. Soon she was surrounded by a familiar, comforting aroma. It was the tea he had always made for her, when she first came Below.

"Vincent? Is this what you went out for?" she asked, delighted. "How did you get it?"

"Jamie brought it to me," he said. He poured her a cup and brought it over to her. She wrapped her hands around the mug and inhaled the fragrant steam.

As she sipped the beverage, Vincent could feel her stress melting away and her confidence returning, and he smiled to himself.

"Come over here," demanded Catherine. She gestured for him to lean down towards him and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, a kiss that left him giddy and reeling. As he went back to his work, reading through legal briefs in search of typos and missing commas, he found himself fighting a powerful impulse to compose sonnets to her lips in the margins of each page.

* * *

After hours of work, Catherine's body and mind began to reach their limit. She didn't even realize that she was drifting off until she heard Vincent's voice in her ear and felt his hand on her cheek. She tried to open her eyes to see him, but her lids fell closed again before she could bring the world into focus.

"You're falling asleep, Catherine. Let me take you to your bed."

She thought about protesting, but her mind was molasses and before she could say anything he had gathered her up into his arms. His soft, warm embrace instantly banished all of her objections, and she was so comfortable she actually fell asleep again on the way from the living room to the bed. She had a vague awareness of him tucking her in, and then she slept.

* * *

Vincent stayed and watched her for a long time before reluctantly turning to leave. Asleep, Catherine's anxiety had all but vanished; still, he was restless. Every day he spent with her brought them closer together. The emotional closeness brought him nothing but joy; the physical closeness elicited a more… complicated reaction. Every day he became more aware of her body, of her touch, and the cravings they awakened in him left him both frightened and exhilarated. He was frozen on the precipice of something he couldn't define, and he had no idea where to go from here or what his next move should be.

Unable to come to any sort of decision or satisfy his racing thoughts, Vincent chose to dispose of his extra energy by helping Catherine finish her work. He was a skillful editor and an efficient typist, and throughout the night, the only thing that ever distracted him was the whisper of Catherine's dreams.

* * *

_Thanks to KrisJean97 for reviewing Chapter 7! To all my readers: please remember to send me a review and tell me what you think! It makes a huge difference to actually hear from people. Thanks!_


	9. Visitors

**Beauty and the Thief**

Chapter Nine: Visitors

Mouse and Jamie stood in front of Catherine's apartment building, craning their necks to see its full height, intimidated by the grandeur, blinking in the sun. Even the most jaded pedestrians did a double take at the sight of this pair of pale, gawky adolescents, dressed in strange, ill-fitting and outmoded clothes, who seemed completely unaware that they were blocking the middle of the sidewalk.

"We're going all the way up there?" Jamie said, doubtfully. She had probably never gone more than a few stories up above the ground, and of course she spent most of her time Below.

Mouse grabbed Jamie's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "No worrying."

The building was even grander on the inside, and Mouse had to tug at Jamie's arm repeatedly to keep her moving while she was busy gaping at the marble pillars and high vaulted ceiling. Obliviously, they traipsed through the lobby, only stopping when the doorman called out to them.

"Where do you two think you are going?"

* * *

Catherine was hurrying out into the lobby, already running late for work, when she heard the familiar voice of Henry, the doorman, arguing with someone. The other voice was familiar as well, but she couldn't quite place it. Curious, she turned to see.

"My name is Mouse, what else could it be?" the boy was saying, stubbornly. "Should I tell you a name that is someone else's name? What's wrong with Mouse, anyway?"

"Mouse? Jamie?" she called out, completely shocked.

"Catherine!" they both shouted, their voices echoing off the high ceiling.

"You know these two, Miss Chandler?" said Henry, doubtfully.

"Oh yes, Henry," she reassured him. "Thank you." She pulled them away from the doorman's desk and brought them towards the elevators. Leaning down, she spoke in a low voice. "Is everything alright?"

The two youths looked down, shyly. Finally, Jamie spoke. "Yes, Catherine, we just wanted to see Vincent." She looked up, worried. "He is with you, isn't he?"

Catherine smiled and patted the girl on the shoulder. "Yes, he's upstairs. I have to get to work," she checked her watch, grimacing, "but I'm sure he'd love some company."

* * *

Vincent heard the doorbell ring – and ring again, and again, and again. "Vincent! Vincent!" whispered two excited voices. He looked out of the peephole and saw two distorted shapes that looked undeniably like Mouse and Jamie. After fumbling at the lock for a bit he finally managed to let them inside. Mouse came bounding in first, and Jamie followed after, shyly.

"Vincent! Missed you!" beamed Mouse, embracing him. After a moment's hesitation, Jamie, too, joined in the hug.

"Mouse – Jamie – I – I've missed you, as well." Vincent was surprised to see them, and even more surprised to find himself starting to tear up.

"Wow!" exclaimed Mouse, looking around for the first time. "This is where Catherine lives? It's beautifuller than I even thought."

Vincent smiled. "You mean "more beautiful," Mouse," he corrected, ever the teacher. "It is nice, isn't it? Come in, you two, and I'll show you around."

The tour took longer than Vincent had expected – Mouse and Jamie kept peppering him with questions, and a few of Catherine's gadgets fascinated the pair so thoroughly that they immediately halted to investigate. The kitchen, especially, was a crowd-pleaser. Mouse and Jamie admired the well-stocked fridge, helping themselves to cans of soda and ice cream sandwiches, and Vincent showed them how to make microwave popcorn. Vincent was cleaning up the countertop when he heard giggles and creaking bedsprings coming from Catherine's bedroom.

"What's going on in there?" he called out.

Silence. Then more giggles. Then they started up again.

Vincent wiped off his hands and went to check on them. To his chagrin he saw that the children were actually bouncing up and down on Catherine's bed.

"Stop that!" he warned, but there was no anger or harshness in his voice. With a playful roar he belly-flopped onto the bed, pulling the two children down to him and tickling them the way he used to when they were younger. "No more bouncing!" Squealing with indignation, they tried to team up and retaliate against him, but Vincent's fur made him nearly impervious to tickle attacks. Finally they all collapsed in a pile on the bed, breathless with laughter.

They rested for a bit, lying on the bed, watching the ceiling fan slowly spin.

"I forgot to ask – is there a reason you came to see me? Other than to steal Catherine's ice cream sandwiches and to try to break her mattress?" Vincent teased.

Mouse and Jamie looked at each other. Mouse poked Jamie in the arm. She swatted him away, then let in a deep breath.

"We came because we want you to come back," she said.

"Oh." He felt a stab of homesickness and guilt. "But I've broken the laws."

"We know, Vincent… but Father will forgive you if you come home, won't he? I mean…" she hesitated. "Everyone's been terribly sad since you left, especially Father. And, well…" she trailed off.

"What?"

Mouse took over. "Some kids, the little kids, not Jamie and me, course, just other kids, they fraid you're never gonna want to come back below again, ever."

Now Vincent understood. He gathered the two close.

"Listen. As soon as I figure out how to make things right with Father, I'm going to come back. Below is my home, and you are my family, and that will never, ever change," he promised. "I just need a little more time. Okay?"

The children nodded, reassured.

"Now, how about I read you two a story before you go back home?"

* * *

_Please send me reviews! I'm sorry this is a little delayed... I usually try to get these chapters posted earlier in the day, but it is my exam week after all. Thanks to spacekitten2700 for reviewing the previous chapter. _


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